Red Roggi and the Bandit Ambush, A Tale of Valor
by DabblesInDirewolves
Summary: The dragonborn and her companion face the depths of Kagrenzel.


**Kagrenzell/Stony Creek Cave**

Sometimes, the hardest part is getting in.

"Frozen shut," said Roggi ruefully, carefully drawing the point of his blade along the crack in the bronze door. He took hold of the handle and tugged while searching for a weak spot; the endeavor proved fruitless. "You wouldn't happen to have a dragon tucked away in that magic bag of yours, eh?"

"No dragons," I replied distractedly, running my eyes along a map. "And a good thing too, or I wouldn't have had room to pack the _important_ things."

Roggi huffed; he had declared me mad when I insisted on lifting the blood-soaked torture tools from the Hagraven's tower. He felt differently after I taught him how to thread strips of linen through gaping flesh with a razor sharp hook that was normally reserved for removing eyeballs. It had been that moment, I'm sure, as we crouched in the snow, ringed with patches of crimson that gleamed black in the moonlight, that the last of Roggi's small-farm innocence was sliced away. "Bah!" he had spat, hands shaking as he worked the metal through the wound in my shoulder. "The singers bloody well leave this shite out of the songs!"

I was in no immediate danger; after the skin had been sewn shut, I had Roggi apply a poultice made from nirnroot and lavender. The pain was manageable, but I was very uneasy about the stiffness in my bow arm. It was for this reason that Roggi and I had decided to camp for the night, and I insisted on the crumbling Dwarven ruin. Anything was better than snow bears in mating season. Fucking anything.

If I was placing our location on the Velothi mountain range correctly, we were on the doorstep of Kagrenzel, a Dwarven ruin some miles east of Windhelm. The doors were frozen solid; large spikes of ice jutted out menacingly overhead. I folded the map gingerly and placed it in my pack, then pushed past my companion to the door.

Two mana potions later, I was able to generate a small yet steady flare. The rush of adrenaline that followed sparked an inferno, and I focused solely on the magic flowing through my veins. My fingers moved unconsciously, absorbing the heat and caressing the flames. The blocks of ice encasing the doors had barely begun to melt when they were steamed away. I may have been too enthusiastic, but I was grateful for the strength so soon after the bear attack.

"Arm yourself, friend," I said, unsheathing my own dragonbone sword. I pulled open the bronze door and entered weapon-first, raising my shield to chest-level as I edged into the hall.

"I'll admit, I was expecting something a bit more...exciting," Roggi commented flatly as we pushed the large door shut behind us. We were standing in a small round antechamber, at the foot of a set of stone steps.

"And I'll admit, I think I've had enough excitement to be getting on with," I retorted. "At least for one day." Nevertheless, I checked the edge of my blade and took a firm grip on the leather strap of my dragonscale shield. "Be that as it may, I refuse to bed down right in the door without being aware of my surroundings."

I started up the steps as Roggi fell in stride beside me, smirking. "I suppose a little more excitement never hurts." Despite the ache in my arm and the general exhaustion, I was glad to see Roggi taking to the adventurer lifestyle. Indeed, he was already adjusting better than I had. He hummed as he traded his dagger for the ebony warhammer I had gifted him in Winterhold.

I pushed open a faded golden door, expecting a small, cramped hallway leading to a chamber much like the first one. As a cavernous blackness loomed down, I dropped into a crouch, edging to the side to allow Roggi to slip through and shut the door.

We lurked there for several moments, allowing our eyes to adjust to the sparse light. I strained my ear for sounds: footsteps, talking, machinery. Nothing but Roggi's steady breathing.

I inched across the stone floor, eyes flitting from the mossy pillars to the dusty chandelier hanging above. I paused suddenly as a low, rhythmic tinkling noise filled the chamber. I immediately retreated a pace and turned so that my back was to my companion's. Pressed hard against his malachite armor, I took a tighter grip on the hilt of my sword. "I think there's trouble ahead," Roggi said in a low voice unmasked by a helmet.

Wait...

"Why the bloody hell aren't you wearing a helmet?!" I hissed. There was no time to reply before a blinding yellow light flooded the room. The soft tinkling had increased to a sharp melodic stabbing in the ears. Not ten feet from us, a pulsating golden orb was floating above a stone dais.

"I think a helmet is the least of my worries," Roggi said dryly, gesturing with the warhammer. The dancing yellow light illuminated what appeared to be a pile of unused jugs and dirty rags; I took a step closer to find that the rags were in fact bodies. Two bandits lay sprawled on the dais, clothed in tattered animal skins and worn leather. The bodies seemed alive in the strange light; the air seemed to shimmer, giving the illusion that they were breathing...

But they weren't, on close inspection. Roggi took charge of gathering the coin from their pockets, while I carefully pushed through the orb with the tip of my sword. "Nothing," I reported. "Unless..." I held out my ungloved hand, wiggling my fingers just an inch above its glittering surface...

"You're going to touch it?" Roggi exclaimed, lurching to his feet and stuffing gold in his pouch. "Just like that?"

I allowed him a smile. "Remember what you said about excitement? A little more never hurts." I confidently placed my hand on the orb, expecting warmth...

There was a piercing clang as automatic gates shot up around the dais. Roggi managed to sidestep just in time, staggering into me. I lost my footing and fell forward through the pulsating orb; shimmers erupted around me as I slammed into the stone floor. Light flickered momentarily off the snow-white bone of a horse skull before we were drenched in darkness. From somewhere far away...below us?...there was the creak of stone moving, shifting...

"What the bloody hell?" Roggi shouted, shielding his eyes as the orb of light burst forth outside of the gates. It raced in a continuous circle, casting sinister shadows on the ornate spikes. We both stood motionless as the scream of metal grinding on stone rose up and surrounded us. The glowing orb bobbed and bounced over the fence, back into our tiny prison. It slowly drifted to its original place on the dais.

I had time to exchange a bewildered look with Roggi before we were once again doused in darkness. This time, the orb did not reappear outside our gate, but coalesced into an eerie blue light. It glowed brightly for a brief moment, and then dissolved into tiny wisps that pulsed momentarily before dying.

Then, with one resounding boom, we lost the floor from beneath our very feet.

There was no time to react, and no reaction to be had anyway. All we could do was fall. I caught a glimpse of Roggi's pale white face and his wild blue eyes before the heavy malachite armor dragged him down below me. I swiped wildly for his flailing arm, but came up with empty air. The wind rushed up to deafen me, and water streamed from my eyes. I released a silent scream the first time I ricocheted off a protruding rock; as more loosened and fell alongside me, I reserved my breaths for breathing, which was growing more difficult by the second.

Rushing, rushing...the wind, the water...where was the water?...my body through the endless stream of frigid air. For as long as I fell, I was not Alaskaya the Dragonborn. I was a bag of heavy falling meat, a bag of heavy, falling, _insane_ meat. One often feels a falling sensation in times of trouble, but when the time of trouble is actually _falling_ , the mind cannot process. For as long as I fell, I was a mad elf.

However, even in madness I could acknowledge the beauty. We were falling through glimmering green and grey stone, patched with ghostly blue mushrooms growing in the crevices. The wind had pried my eyes permanently open, and I had no choice but to cling to the last vibrant visuals of this earthly life...

My heavy boots punched into the water with the force of a stampeding mammoth. The crash forced the last precious bit of air from my lungs, and a thick stream of bubbles followed me to the bottom of the watery pit. My armor dragged me down, faster and faster, until I connected with the slippery, rounded surface of a submerged boulder. Pointing my arms upward, I pushed off as hard as possible, slicing through the water like a slaughterfish. My chest burned for oxygen as I struggled to break the surface.

The first lungful of stale cavern air was better than I'd ever experienced on a crisp day in Riften. I gasped a second time, ripping the heavy helmet from my head. My relief was short-lived, however; I had barely raised my leaden arms to swim to shore when Roggi appeared beside me. His pale gold hair was plastered to his stark-white face. "Move!" he shouted, shoving me hard.

I leapt forward with little more grace than a drunken horker. A split-second later, a massive boulder slammed into the water, sending a wave over my head that spiraled me toward the bottom. I hovered for a moment to ensure there were no more projectiles, and once again kicked my way to the surface.

Roggi was treading water when I broke through. I swiped my sodden hair out of my eyes and turned this way and that, observing. Staring up into the expanse that stretched above us, I couldn't even begin to guess how far underground we were. Likely under a lake, as there were several small waterfalls gushing out of cracks in the walls. I swirled in the water, trying to get my bearings. I noticed a soft mist creeping along the wall beside one of the larger falls. I squinted, convinced it led to a doorway.

"This way," I said to Roggi, trying to push my tired body through the water. The bear attack seemed hours ago, and somewhere along the way I had lost my bandages. I could feel warm blood seeping into the damp linen, and I longed for a fire and a mug of Argonian bloodwine. We pushed silently along, trying not to disturb the floating bodies of other unfortunate souls who needed a little more excitement.

I unsheathed my sword the moment I took a solid step onto dry land. Roggi and I moved forward at a steep incline, our boots slipping repeatedly on the slimy stones underfoot. Up ahead was a rather well-lit alcove, tucked deep into the stone wall well above our heads. I came to a halt and threw out an arm to block Roggi.

"It's the bloody fucking Falmer," I exhaled.

"Where?" Roggi demanded in a deep voice. I shouldered him back and glared. "That's where they make nests!" I hissed, gesturing towards the faint outline in the rock.

Falmer were not snow-bears, and in truth I would have wished the bears back if possible. I decided to use a decent amount of caution here; it wouldn't do to go barreling through the nasty little bastards in order to show my novice a bit of adventurer's bravado. He would have to settle and be impressed with a bear wound.

Locating the souls of living creatures took more mental strength than brute strength, which was lucky. As I focused my energies on Aura Whisper, I reached out into the darkness around me, feeling for vibrations. Luckily enough, the alcove above us was empty, but further ahead, heartbeats pounded out into the silence. I nodded to Roggi and we resumed our snail's pace, creeping along the stone walkway. Small bugs buzzed relentlessly around our heads, and slimy things slithered alongside.

The Falmer fell practically on top of us, and only by quick and quiet footwork did we manage to backpedal. Although we had the element of surprise, it would be lost of there was only slight hesitation. Once I felt my feet bounce on a steady, solid surface, I pushed off into a somersault, launching my blade and girth of the shield into the monster at full force.

The dragonbone scrabbled uselessly for purchase on the tough Falmer armor. As the creature shrieked and hurtled a mace at Roggi, I leapt in again to clang it on the head. The helmet was near indestructible, the design tipping me off that this was a Falmer Shadowmaster, not nearly weak enough for a beginner. I shoved my way past Roggi and continued to rain blows on any weak spot I could manage. The heavy dragonscale shield was an asset, and after several hard knocks, the Shadowmaster staggered back and fell to the ground. I moved to take off the head, but with an unexpected burst of motion the Falmer slipped his blade into my calf. I ground my teeth and opened the bastard's throat, wiping the blood off on his stinking armor after.

"You'll be needing that tended to, I reckon," Roggi said as he steadied me. I wiped the blood from the slice and wound a length of linen around the calf, tying it off. "This will have to do for now," I lamented. I felt much worse for the wear, and not keen on swordfighting with a lame leg. I quickly swapped my sword and shield for the dragonbone bow.

Roggi and I had a brief yet furious fight about who was leading who, and I finally won out by threatening him with a handful of glass arrows. We resumed a slow, cautious pace. After several moments of knee-shattering creeping, I attempted Aura Whisper once again. There was something...Falmer or worse...around a bend ahead. Roggi and I cut a path around embedded boulders and cumbersome roots. I paused to peer up into the well lit path before us when Roggi tapped my shoulder and gestured to the wall.

It was a moonstone ore vein, nestled into the rock. The tiny bits of moonstone glistened brightly in the faint light. Moonstone was valuable, but with trouble ahead, we would have to wait to mine. I shook my head at Roggi and resumed forward.

The Aura Whisper directed me to another of the small nests carved into the rock. I took careful aim with the bow and let loose a glass arrow. Dust danced when it landed; otherwise, nothing was disturbed. I grimaced; the wound to my shoulder was a hindrance. I launched two more arrows to little effect.

Roggi was just starting to kick up a fuss about it being his turn when a small Falmer leapt from the nest with a shriek...as luck would have it, he leapt right into my fourth arrow, and was dead by the time he hit the floor.

My sigh of relief was lost in the loud crackle as the Falmer's soul was encased in an empty soul gem. I rubbed the worn bone of the bow and watched the magic work within. As the blue lightning faded from sight, I immediately used the power of the stolen soul to charge the bow. The dragon's bone glowed warmly for a moment as if in thanks, and then the magic died from the room.

"Some gold, the arrow, and a health potion," Roggi counted. "Not a bad haul." He placed the loot in his bag and started forward, waving an irritated hand at the dust particles floating around our heads. He paused at the beginning of a long wooden bridge, eyeing the thundering falls on either side. "Seems safe enough," he called back, testing the first weathered gray board with a boot.

But my eyes were locked on the massive stone brazier set high in the stone. Shadows were dancing against the surface, shadows that seemed to be growing larger, taking on a humanoid shape...

I managed to pull Roggi back into the gloom mere seconds before three heavily-armed Falmer appeared on the section of the bridge perpendicular to our hiding spot. There was a gravely hiss emitting from the largest of the group (their version of language, I assumed), and they walked with a purposeful stride towards us. Some sort of patrolling guard.

"We have one shot at this," I breathed. "You go left, I go right."

Roggi nodded solemnly and swung the warhammer across his shoulder. "I lead, you follow." Before I could protest, he smashed the head of the hammer into the wooden boards, causing a mad sway. The Falmer barely had time to look down curiously before we were on them.

The first grotesque soldier howled in fury and leapt in my direction. In one swift motion, I slipped the point of a glass arrow through a poison-soaked linen and strung the dragonbone bow. The paralysis poison took effect instantaneously; the creature dropped to the floor, a pile of useless flesh, and Roggi was clear to send his warhammer hurtling into the would-be avenger behind.

I opened my mouth to congratulate Roggi on the kill, but never got the chance. One moment we were posted in a defensive stance against the one remaining Falmer; the next, a huge ice bolt shattered the stone between us. Tiny shards of ice shot in every direction, mini missiles that slipped easily through cracks in armor. They peppered Roggi's unprotected face, causing tiny red pinpricks to well and run. I threw myself to the side as a second bolt collided with the ceiling, raining white hot needles. The last and largest Falmer advanced in its wake, snarling.

A Warmonger, I knew from the cut of the armor. Deadly accurate with a sword, even moreso with magic.

The next blast of ice hit Roggi squarely in the chest. He staggered back, groaning, and collapsed against the stone wall. Energized by its victory, the Warmonger released a guttural laugh and sent another wave of cold down the hall. Roggi and I were backed into a corner, the Falmer having pushed us back from the uncertain sway of the bridge.

However, most living things are most formidable when they perceive no escape. I was no different, and the Thu'um rose in my chest without being consciously brought forth, the protective ancestral instinct boiling over. I inhaled dry dusty air far beneath the earth, and exhaled the explosive power of the Voice. "FUS RO DAH!"

The Warmonger was blasted off of its feet, landing in a crumpled heap at the edge of the bridge. With the Thu'um still pounding in my throat, I quickly worked to place as many glass arrows in my opponent as possible. The creature managed to struggle to its feet before the final arrow caught it in the neck. There was a screech, a gargle, and it fell.

"Reinforcements," Roggi rasped from behind me, gesturing once again to the tell-tale shadows flickering on the brazier. He rose to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall. I brought forth healing energy from my palms, directing the glowing illumination at Roggi. Once I felt he was sufficiently safe, I pulled the energy back into my own aching body. Soft light flowed from my palms and coursed through my veins; my heart beat more strongly, and my whole body warmed. When the single Falmer came thudding across the bridge, Roggi and I drew a collective breath.

Though smaller than the Warmonger, the Falmer Gloomlurker was just as deadly. It took one look at its fallen comrades and released an unearthly shriek. I realized the creature's weapon of choice was a staff that issued pale blue bolts from an ornately carved serpent's head. "Get the staff!" I commanded Roggi, pulling the sword from my belt and baiting the Falmer toward me.

Two steps on, and the Gloomlurker whipped the staff in a graceful arc, conjuring a crackling ball of lightning. One more swipe with the staff sent the electricity zapping through the air. The bolts were almost upon me when the Great Ward burst from my palms; the protective magic bent into the air around me, forming an impassible barrier. The lightning shattered off the invisible shield, streaking uselessly this way and that.

The Gloomlurker roared furiously, carelessly lowering the head of the staff. The second roar was of agony, and the sickening snap of bone was a better tune than any ever played at the Bard's College.

Roggi's first slam with the warhammer had shattered both the lightning staff and the monster's forearm. As the creature palmed a steel dagger in the hand not dangling uselessly at its side, I dropped the ward and moved in with sword and shield. The Falmer did not admit defeat easily. Shrieking and hissing to the end, the Gloomlurker made its final stand at the beginning of the weathered wooden bridge. Two feinting jabs and one clean slice later, it made its final watery bed in the stagnate pool fifty feet below.

"We should have taken our chances bedding down in the door," Roggi grumped as we eased our way across the bridge, sharing a flask of spiced wine.

"Where is your sense of adventure?" I asked mildly. My boots unexpectedly sank into soft mud, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"It might be in there somewhere...frozen solid." Roggi traced the small cuts on his face and grimaced. "But by Oblivion, I'm betting we won't find it through there."

We had reached a large stone archway that resembled the mouth of a cave, the path stretching on an out of sight. As Roggi spoke, a haze of bats fluttered from the ceiling and rushed past, tiny squeaks lost in the crash of the surrounding waterfalls.

I made to move forward, then paused. The wounds in my shoulder and leg had stiffened my joints, and the combined weight of sword and shield sapped my energy. Despite this, my blood was coursing , and the dormant magic that thrived in my veins raced along vigorously. I sheathed my weapon and removed the thickly armored gauntlets. Cold air numbed my bare forearms as I lifted my palms experimentally. The flames leapt forth eagerly, showering the gloom ahead with a tiny rainstorm of sunny sparks.

"Such a bright and beautiful thing, eh? The fire." Roggi spoke earnestly, placing a hand on my elbow and shifting my arm to the right. "It just makes things feel _alive,_ " he paused on the final word, and in the glow of the magical fire in my hands, a shadow deep in the pathway shifted forward.

"Good," I whispered, flexing my fingers; the flames hummed and pulsed with the movement. "I like my enemies to feel alive as I'm killing them."

There was a hiss of pain and surprise as the first supercharged firebolt connected with the Falmer Gloomlurker. It reeled back, but recovered and charged in the space of seconds, the cruel blade of a crudely-fashioned sword glinting in the scanty light.

But the sinister storm of magic roared forth angrily, seizing the smaller Gloomlurker in a swirling tunnel of hellfire. Torturous wails rent the air as the Falmer-shaped conflagration whirled and rolled. At long last I pulled my fingers together tightly, holding the magic at bay as it wrestled to get free. The body of our fallen Falmer lay smoking in the pathway, its charred hands still clutching the ruined sword. As the last flames licked out, another rush of black bats zipped past, screeching their displeasure to the night.

"Do you think he felt alive?" I asked Roggi as we traipsed through the archway. He pushed the smoldering corpse with a boot and made a face. "By the Gods, I hope not."

We continued on a path that snaked through the the teetering boulders, occasionally tripping on hidden slabs of rock that resulted in more than one stumble.

Rushing water greeted us around a curve, the falls pouring from a crack in the ceiling and thundering cheerfully over the rocky pathway that dipped down into yet another long stretch of wet tunnel.

"More waterfalls," Roggi grumbled, eyeing the treacherous waterslope critically. "I would have preferred the snowbanks."

But my attentions were elsewhere; set alongside the stone wall was an oddly shaped chest that seemed to be built from the mangled body of a chaurus. I ran my fingers along the sharpened claws that doubled as a locking mechanism. It was clever, I'd give them that.

That's all I was giving them, however, and indeed taking a little more. I parceled the hidden gold out between Roggi and myself, and assigned him the task of hauling the large hunk of gold ore. The dusty soul gem I kept for myself. The magic inside was faint and uncertain, but that was more than enough of a start.

"Let's get this over with!" Roggi called, jamming the head of his warhammer deep between two submerged rocks. Using the handle for security, the Nord swung himself into the stream and gestured for me to follow.

The water rushed into our boots and shoved us to and fro with obscene strength. I lost my footing twice, the second instance sending me careening over a large hump of boulders, saved from clattering out of sight only by a well-placed projection of rock that caught my feet and slammed me heavily into the water, face-down. I sat up and attempted to staunch the flow of blood from my nose.

Roggi crab-scrambled around the debris, lurching this way and that as he fought to keep balanced. "There's a ledge," I said faintly as he jerked me unsteadily to my feet. "Against the wall. Hurry, this is the last place we would want to be caught in an ambush."

We found the narrow walkway slimy and unreliable, but it was a damn sight nicer than the watery rocks. We followed the shelf until it deadended in a gush of cold spray that poured from yet another stone archway. Beyond the falls the path twisted on to the right; I sent a cautionary firebolt into a well-hidden alcove above our heads, but the merrily-drizzling water remained the only disturbance.

"Is it me, or are the walls...closing in?" Roggi asked quietly as we continued our seemingly endless journey into the earth. He wasn't wrong; I cast a wary eye at the asphyxiating spiral of crumbling stone. The walls loomed in around us, forcing us to our knees, slinking like vermin through the stinking water.

The bulky armor and packs of gear impeded our progress, and we crept through the cramped tunnel slowly, accompanied by the steadily rushing creek beneath our fingers. Flowing water was the only sound for so long; when the monotonous rush was disrupted by a rhythmic clanging up ahead, I was sure I had imagined it.

"Company?" Roggi asked, struggling to see through the gaps above my prone figure. I inched forward on my elbows, eyes squinted against the flecks of cold droplets. Through a thick tangle of hanging moss I could make out a small cavern, about ten feet below our tomb-like hiding place. The water slipped out of the half-crescent cut in the rock that shielded us, puddling heavily on the floor before continuing on in a small river through the cave. A single lantern glowed dimly to the left, illuminating a lone figure mining with a pickaxe in the corner. We could barely make out the irritable mutters over the coursing water.

"Go to College, the old bastard says! His answer for everything, more bloody work! As if I'd be accepted at either fucking one! Magic and music, bah!"

"Well, he sounds pleasant...oof!" Roggi groused as my boot accidentally connected with his forehead.

"He will sound more pleasant gargling," I returned shortly, maneuvering the bow awkwardly from the sling on my back. I wasted many precious moments groping for an arrow over my shouder, but finally a tiny blade sliced my finger. Moving clumsily in the confined space, I carefully strung the bow and took aim at our pessimistic miner. The useless twittering died away as the arrow took him in the throat. The body slumped to the floor, the bandit dead before he even realized the danger. It may be less honorable to silently slaughter an unarmed man, but on the other hand, it is also much less painful.

"It's clear," I relayed, taking a tight grip on the dragonbone and slinging myself over the shelf of rock. I landed heavily on the lame leg and crumpled, gritting my teeth as I lurched back to my feet. By the time my companion had wriggled out of the alcove, I was already inspecting the freshly-mined ore piled haphazardly around the bandit's body.

"Gold to pay for school-books?" Roggi teased, dropping to his knees to rifle through the bandit's pockets.

I shook my head. "Moonstone." I brushed dirt from the luminous pink stone and weighed in in my hands. "Enough to pay for many books, to the right jeweler."

"Two moonstone ore veins in Kagrenzel?" Roggi sounded surprised. "Why should the Dweamer take such an interest in moonstone? I've heard the elven cultures build enchanted weapons with moonstone and use it in their traditions. It seems they would covet this ore more than the Dwarves."

"We are all the same." I quickly placed the labors of the dead in a cloth sack and tied it to my belt. "Dwarves and elves, Dwemer and Bosmer. Altmer and Dumner. Even the Orsimer." I returned the bow to my back and straightened my rucksack. Roggi was looking at me quizzically, so I tapped myself on the chest. "It's all one blood. The dwarves, the elves, the orcs. To you Nords, aye, we are different. The Dwemer are reduced to myths of stunted men, the Orsimor are cast out into isolated strongholds. Khajiit assassins find a better welcome in Skyrim than the Dunmer refugees."

I paused to draw breath, and realized that Roggi appeared shamefaced. I softened my tone. "I speak for all my fellow Bosner and Altmer when I say there is luck involved in being born, and by that luck we were born fair of face. But I do not forget." I smiled at him. "Did you know that the even the Falmer, once, were beautiful? They were called snow-elves for the porcelain of their skin."

"Falmer are elves as well?" he heaved a sigh. "I suppose there's not too much truth to be had about different races when you grow up on a farm surrounded by Nords and more Nords."

"That's why you're here," I reminded him. "To increase your knowledge. See the world. All those wonderful things you young heroes yearn for. And since we are speaking of seeing the world...I believe I have seen this particular part of the world twice."

It was a surreal feeling, but I was certain I had been here before. On a hunch, I clambered over two fallen boulders and patted my way around a familiar dark corner. Roggi followed with the lantern, raising the box so that soft light fell onto the dusty chest tucked into the wall. I palmed the rusty metal rake and ornately carved Skeleton key at the same moment, slipping both into the old lock.

Roggi observed alertly from over my shoulder as we once again went through the basics of lockpicking. The two tools fought bitterly against my palms, but a moment later there was a satisfying click, and the wooden lid creaked open.

The loot was plentiful and valuable, and I sifted through emeralds and sapphires delightedly while Roggi clutched an old dragon-staff. "I would love a chance to fight with magic," he admitted mournfully, thumbing away the dust on the weapon. I pocketed the brilliant gems and took the staff from his hands.

A faint red hue tinged the peripherals of my vision as I caressed the ornate dragon's head. "A fire staff," I said. "Are you sure you don't want to be a lightning mage?" I teased.

Roggi grimaced. "Nay, and no damned ice wizard either!"

I used one of the few black soul gems to charge the Staff of Flames. The small fire licked out of the dragon's mouth, already brighter than the dim lantern. I went to hand the staff to Roggi, but pulled back at the last moment. "Whatever else you do," I told him seriously, taking his hand and placing the weapon there myself... "aim."

Roggi took the staff with a mixed expression of excitement and apprehension. "That can't be all there is to it?"

I shrugged at him, then climbed back over the boulders. "If things get dire, drop it and run. I've found that usually works."

"Aye, for fleet-footed creatures like yourself." Roggi wound a length of linen around the head of the staff and frowned. "Where would I be running to, anyway? You said you recognized this place."

"Even so, that's of little help. One cave is much like the others, once you've been through enough of them." I eyed the smashed barrels jammed deep into the mud along the walls; they reeked of rotting cabbages. I wrinkled my nose. "With a common stench. Let's move on, the water will lead us out."

We moved along the tiny rushing creek, creeping across endless miles of slimy rock. The blackness settled in thickly around us, but I refused to allow Roggi to bring the lantern. We did not need to be seen, and as long as we had our ears, hands and noses, we did not need to see. The tunnel narrowed and then grew wider unexpectedly before curving into a cramped crevice. A sour odor settled on my nose, and I sneezed.

A muffled voice sounded from ahead, and I cursed myself before backing hastily into the wall. My heightened eyesight was barely enough to observe Roggi mirroring my movements against the opposite wall. I strained my eyes in the darkness for a hint of light, fire or magical, but the thick black curtain remained. There was a cloying, dangerous quality about the air; breathing through the mouth seemed to choke the throat, while breathing through the nose burned like firewine...

There was a soft cough right in my ear, and loose pebbles pattered quietly as our intruder took another careful step further. There was an almost nonexistent gleam of malachite as Roggi kicked out with an armored leg. A woman's voice yelped in surprise as a heavy clatter echoed around us. Her next breath was choked off at the scream, replaced quickly by the sickening squish of metal into flesh.

"Let's be on with it, then," Roggi said in a gravelly voice. I could hear the exhaustion coating his words, and no wonder...it had been hours since we had first fallen into this terrible exciting adventure, and the faint whine of fatigue that had prodded me gently was now shoving with each step. Suddenly, a light flared.

It was as though I was underwater, staring into the blinding orb through a curtain of shimmering mist. Roggi and I stood frozen like hiding rabbits as the ball of light darted quickly to the ceiling. It seemed to meld into the rock, illuminating the fog that drifted along our feet and the outlines of three hulking bandits that remained mere shadows in the gloom. As two more spheres of illumination sped up to cling to the walls around us, our visitors were more clearly visible, although hazy.

"Well, look what we got here!" boomed out the largest of the three, a shirtless Orc with black eyes and a shock of dark hair. In one swift motion he slid the Staff of Magelight into his belt and withdrew a menacing scimitar. His fellows, though less intimidating, were practiced. There was an echoing rasp of metal escaping leather as the pair drew their weapons in unison. I tightened my grip around the hilt of my sword, feeling the reassuring weight.

"Come to join our merry little band?" the Orc questioned in a guttural tone. He took a step forward; the strangely thick air seemed to distort his features. The smaller bandits advanced a half-pace, silent but alert.

"Aye, is there a band?" Roggi called brightly, passing the ebony warhammer almost lazily from palm to palm. "And me without my dancing shoes!"

"Boots will have to do," I shrugged. There was a sudden burst of explosive action as both sides charged through the water. I caught the curve of the scimitar on the flat of my blade and knocked it askew, forcing the Orc to take a hasty step back.

The first highwayman sped past and swung his sword wildly, allowing Roggi to safely dodge and dole a solid hit with the warhammer. As his opponent fell, the second made a move as if to leap into the air; the feint worked as intended, and Roggi thrust the warhammer up and forward, leaving ample space for the bandit to duck and roll beneath the danger.

I parried the Orc's next blow, but the slight hesitation as my eyes ranged over the melee beside us allowed an opening. I had barely registered the leaking gash on my forearm when the second bandit successfully shattered Roggi's kneecap with an iron mace.

A hot, pinching burn spawned in the wound, but my gasp of pain was lost in my friend's scream of agony. He crumpled onto the rocks, fine blonde hair spilling out into the water like a ghostly halo. The highwayman somersaulted to his feet, dripping, but lost control of the mace; it flew heavily into the rushing stream and floated from sight. We locked eyes in the blueish white light of the spell, and from his pocket the enemy drew a jagged dagger, smiling...

The Orc's scimitar clanged against my helmet, and I instinctively dropped into a crouch. My boots slipped beneath me, the water pushing and pulling as I struggled to steady myself. The second blow to the head reeled me over backwards, arms dunking into the water as I caught my weight on my hands. The Orc laughed in victory and lunged forward, raising the scimitar to drive it in to the hilt...

I shoved against the submerged floor, ducking my head so that the cruel horns of the dragonscale helmet were the first assault against my attacker. The scimitar scraped uselessly along my armored back as the prongs sank deep into the Orc's jaw and eye. There was a terrible wail as the Orc raised both hands to his mangled face. I planted a boot squarely in the bastard's stomach, and he pitched backwards and stumbled over a rock.

Half a heartbeat later, I had jerked the dragonbone bow from my back with such force that the leather straps holding it close were ripped apart. One exhale later, the bow was strung and pulled taut, the sharpened point of the glass arrow aimed steadily at the highwayman. Nevertheless, he had fair leverage.

In the time it had taken me to throw back the largest and strongest bandit, his fellow had slogged to Roggi's prone figure and dragged him to his feet. I stared past my glazed, semi-conscious companion, fully fixated on the bandit's beady eyes and the jagged blade of the Orcish dagger, pressed alarmingly into Roggi's exposed throat.

"You can still make it out of this, you know," I said into the silence, my words bold even over the ever-rushing surge of water. I looked deep and hard into the eyes of the enemy and attempted to negotiate. "Let him go. Throw him facedown and drop your weapon. You will walk out of here a free man. You have the word of the Dovahkiin. What say you?"

The bandit had yet to answer when there was a sudden flurry of movement to my left. There was no reaction to be had before a second dagger came spinning end over end from the hand of the recovering Orc. The aim was true, and the smaller, smoother iron dagger lodged neatly and cleanly in the Nord's throat. Its Orcish brother clattered away into the water as the highwayman shied from the a thick spray of blood; Roggi slumped forward as the foam churned scarlet.

I roared in a blind fury, launching the glass arrow into the smaller bandit's forehead. The Orc was on me before I could draw a second, and the scimitar bashed into my gauntlets; my fingers cramped and shook, and the bow splashed away. The dragonbone hilt found my palm on its own, and I lashed out, slashing twice to back the enemy into a corner. One carefully timed feint later and the scimitar was knocked from its owner's grasp.

The first jab into the Orc's abdomen resulted in an unearthly howl, and the second opened him from shoulder to pec. I fought viciously to avenge my fallen farmer, and in my wrath I grew reckless. When the Orc's bare hands closed around my blade, I paused, glaring into one black eye as the other dangled uselessly from the socket...and then the sword was ripped away and tossed carelessly into the water.

Leaking like a sieve from half a dozen wounds, the Orc gave me a wild and exuberant laugh. As lifeblood snaked through the water like gory ribbons, he drew the Staff of Magelight from his belt and snapped the handle into two halves. I barely had time to wonder at the adrenaline rush of the Orsimor when he was upon me. The first slice with the sharpened wooden club furrowed neatly into my most recent wound. I sidestepped to escape the pain, and momentum carried me forcefully into the next blow, angled perfectly enough to slip between the thin crack in helmet and armor.

I hit the rocky cavern floor heavily, scraped palms slippery on the boulders. I inhaled deeply, fighting for breath after the smart rap on the throat. I wheezed in nothing but burning fog; fighting through the suffocation, I managed to grab the stake as it plunged toward me. The Orc paused, wrong-footed, and I rammed the end of the staff as hard as I could into his bleeding stomach before scrambling back.

I went for my belt with one hand as I backpedaled with the other. My ebony dagger was safely enclosed in the leather pouch, but I had none sooner pulled it free than a particularly vicious crack with the wooden rod knocked it loose. Wielding duel weapons and unbothered by his own mortal wounds, the Orc continued to rain blows upon my head and torso, forcing me further up the narrow tunnel, away from the bodies of friends and foes.

Twelve hits, sixteen, twenty...I lost count. I blocked some of them and landed my own, but the fight, unarmed, was quite one-sided. At one point, the magic in my body growled in fury; as though it were a separate entity, the power welled inside, struggling to come to my physical aide. My palms buzzed weakly with the old familiar tingle, but another, more powerful instinct surged up to drag it back. I repeated the refrain of breathe, block, jab, retreat a pace, breathe, block, jab...the Orc suddenly cast one wooden stake aside and grabbed my wrist with his bulky hand.

"You will be...so much easier...to rob...when you're dead!" he stammered, boxy chest heaving for air. He allowed me a mutilated smile, tiny strings of flesh dancing around the gash in the jaw. I concentrated solely on forcing a blast of destructive magic into his leering face, but it was as though an internal plug had been pulled, and my magical energy drained away as steadily as mead from a mug.

In the ghostly dying light of the Magelight spell, I locked eyes with the enemy, both of us gasping like laboring mammoths, and felt very badly for Roggi. I hoped he had found his beloved Sovengarde, for it seemed as though I would meet my end in the same sad, watery pit under the earth, and there would be no one left to exult his adventures and compose a hero's ballad for the bards. Sometimes death is plummeting to the earth after slaughtering a marauding dragon, sometimes it is throwing yourself in front of a spell for a loved one...but more often than not, it is a quiet, lonely death with no resolution, and no songs...

Without warning, the hold on my wrist loosened as the Orc lapsed into a fit of violent coughing. Using the last bit of stored energy, I shoved him off and lurched to my feet, bringing my hands up in a defensive stance...

"OI! You fat ugly fuck! Have a go at me!"

My unexpected savior was more corpse than man, and his command was more whimper than shout, despite the bold words. The iron dagger was gone, but the hole in Roggi's throat gaped wide; as his face drained of color, blood caked in his beard and ran in rivulets down his muddy armor to stain the dark water red. His hair was matted and tangled, his eyes wild, but he was alive, and for a moment I almost fainted in relief. That's when I noticed the graceful golden dragon's head bobbing at his side.

The Orc squalled in terror, abandoning me completely and lunging for Roggi. Hot dread coated my throat and clung to my teeth, as tangible as snowberry crostatas. As Roggi spun the Staff of Flames vehemently, I shouted a warning that I couldn't understand...and then the world was rent apart.

The explosion was a deafening blast of sound and color, and I had just enough time to inhale a lungful of fiery air when I was lifted off my feet. I rode the surge of energy against my will, careening through a tunnel that was alternatively black pitch and sunset-tinged fireballs. Finally it occurred to me that I must be on fire, that there was no way I _wasn't_ on fire, and I opened my mouth to scream for help when there was no help to be had, slowly cooking in the heavy armor...

I finally had the sensation of falling steadily downwards, and the dunk into the lazily sloshing pond was the finest feeling I could remember experiencing; I floated face down for a moment, happily forgoing oxygen for the cooling balm of the water. I finally floundered to my feet, waist deep in murk, and realized I was surrounded by a collection of bobbing possessions. I blindly scrambled for the most important objects: weapons, my shield, the bag of potions and health supplies.

Anger rose in my chest as I swiftly tossed pouches of herbs and ingredients in my knapsack. The strange air, the explicit lack of torches, the Orc's panic when Roggi revealed the flame staff...I knew I had been here before, knew now without doubt that we were in Stony Creek Cave, a cavern deep in the Rift that was notorious for producing flammable natural gas...but then again, how could I ever have guessed that a Dwarven ruin deep in the snowy mountains would lead us here? It was just another example of the cruel, beautiful savagery of life in Skyrim.

With most of my inventory accounted for, I slogged through the water to the weathered wooden planks that formed a makeshift bridge back onto the pathway. I held fast to the crude handrail, knees aching in protest as I scrambled up the slimy ramp. The bottom dropped out of my stomach as I heaved myself over the rudimentary scaffolding (perhaps the failed ancient start of a dam?) and came face to face with a waterlogged body slung carelessly across a beam.

The uneasy feeling was mercifully short-lived; even in its battered condition, I could see at a glance that there was no malachite armor or blonde hair. It was one of the smaller bandits, the neat hole in his forehead visible even in the rushing whitecaps. I considered kicking the body off into the water to be consumed by the tiny wriggling fish, but urgency was important, and I spared one last glare for the bastard before retracing my flight through the tunnel.

The dripping stone was decorated with large swatches of scorch marks, and loose pebbles rained down on my head. I limped past uprooted boulders and patches of bright red mud, past the contorted body of the second smaller bandit. The path was tight, the air still heavy if not as thick, and through the slow progression a whine of panic was sounding in my ears. I stumbled around a slight bend to a large yawning cavern to my right, one I had understandably overlooked as I was being hurtled through space.

The body of the slightly-smoking Orc greeted me at the foot of a wooden ramp. The mutilated face was blackened and burnt, the unarmed chest bubbled. I aimed a well placed-kick at the misshapen head before clambering up the ramp, and both hair and flesh sloughed away.

I braced myself before emerging onto the plank dock that extended a few feet back. The first gleam of malachite made my heart skip, but the stoic numbness settled in nicely, a natural salve for the raw heartbreak of losing a friend...

Half of Roggi's face was mottled and burned, but the other half was eerily smooth and unharmed, with the exception of the dagger wound. His eyes were mercifully closed, and I collapsed heavily to my knees, running my fingers once through the fine blonde hair. A fellow Bosmer would have been content with incineration, but Nords kept to the within-the-earth traditions of mankind, and I would see that his body was returned to the farm outside Windhelm. A rotten blanket lay abandoned on the shelf, and I quickly snatched it up, intending to cover the body out of respect...when I turned back, he was looking at me, wild-eyed but undeniably alive.

"Roggi?" I gasped, dropping to the floor and scrambling to his side. The whites of his eyes flashed around in terror, a dangerous gargle erupting from his blood-soaked mouth. "Can't...feel...am...dying?" the alarming weakness of his voice drove me to action.

"Maybe," I answered as I destroyed my rucksack, strewing the contents in a semicircle. "Maybe not. But, I will put more emphasis on the not." I tore off a thin strip of linen from an already-ripped tunic and swiftly neatened the jagged edges with an iron dagger.

Roggi eyed me in a daze, his face growing pallid as the blood surged powerfully through the gash. "Please tell...mother...tell her..."

"I'll tell her not a godsdamned bloody thing. You'll tell her yourself or she will remain none the wiser, you hear me?" I roughly jangled the tiny leather pouch that protected my torture tools. The metal eyeball-remover clattered to the ground, and in the time it takes to blink I had punched the hooked end through the strip of linen. I bent over my friend and gave him a very serious look. "This is going to hurt. Badly. I suggest you start screaming now to get ahead of it." He gaped at me like a fish out of water, and I shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He accepted the first stab with the pointed end as a warrior would, and acknowledged the pain with only twin tear-tracks. I worked with the skin and linen, moving so quickly at some points that my hands were a blur, other times slowing down so that I was barely moving at all. I kept up a steady, soothing ramble as Roggi passed back and forth through consciousness.

"This is familiar, eh? It's no wonder the bloody bards don't sing about these parts, now that I think of it," I said conversationally. "No man in his right mind would seek adventure if they knew these were the daily ramifications." Roggi jerked and inhaled heavily, a stark rattle sounding from his chest. Sweat beaded on my brow as I bent over the wound, red residue staining my fingers. I paused to wipe the blood clear, then continued, knitting the flesh together more tenderly than a mother sews clothes for her child.

"And then, the adventurer hangs up his sword and takes up a hoe, and there is nothing left to sing," I continued distractedly, twisting my head this way and that as I sank the sharpened metal into Roggi's throat once more. I paused to glance at his eyes, thin strips of white in the darkness. "Roggi?" there was no answer except for faint breathing. I refocused on my ministrations, battling back the panic that caused my fingers to tremble unhelpfully.

"It's a good thing you did the opposite," I said into the silence. "This will make a fine song. Red Roggi and the Bandit Ambush, A Tale of Valor." I smiled, but he was not there to return it, floating uncertainly in the blank space between life and death. The weak smile slipped from my face, and I busily finished the mending, closing the wound inch by inch. I tightened the strip, tugging the skin gently, and then carefully sliced the remaining length of cloth at the end, tying the linen off into tiny knots. Then I leaned forward and critically examined my work.

The flesh around the sewn gash was already graying out, with intermittent fingers of spiky red rash. The bleeding had blessedly stopped, but he had already lost a dangerous amount. In this weakened state, he would never survive the fever of infection.

I searched in vain through my sodden ingredients for the essentials to make a healing poultice, but the last of the nirnroot had given out on the steps of Kagrenzel. I sat back in the heap of mountain flowers and skeever tails and eyed my surroundings. At first it seemed as though the whole world had shrunk to the size of our tiny platform of planks; then I noticed the shallow cut in the rock behind us. "Stay there," I said to Roggi, knowing he would appreciate the humor if he were conscious.

The second dark tunnel was defended by an iron mace that snapped free of its restraints when I broke the ankle-height tripwire strung across the path. I threw myself to the side as it whizzed past my head, and then flung myself forward into yet another earthen cavern.

Half a dozen different patches of mushrooms crowded the damp floor, glistening wetly in the sparse light. As my eyes adjusted and the contents of the cave came into focus, my heart lodged in my throat and I sagged in relief, from both the sharp, clean crispness of the air and the old alchemy lab perched atop a wooden table across the room.

I scurried bent in two beneath the low-slung ceiling, eyes darting around the various baskets and bowls of ingredients. I quickly stuffed handfuls of lavender, wispy dragonfly wings and squishy sabre cat eyeballs into my pockets. These more exotic ingredients could not result in a potion just by being mixed together, but an alchemy lab could extract and combine the essential juices, concocting an elixir of the magic that lay dormant in their physical forms.

My luck, which had seemed scanty at best the hour before, held fast, and I closed my fist around a small pot of wriggling ectoplasm. In no time a small fire was burning in the enclosed metal brazier, and I wished bitterly that we had known of this small hidden sanctuary before the air exploded. I pushed the negativity away and sprinkled the flames with gritty, glimmery dust. They danced and crackled merrily, ranging from shimmering green to frosty blue, all tinged with a lick of orange. I carefully fed the ingredients through the gap in the metal, and at once the lavender and dragonfly wings vaporized into a whistling mist; the sabre cat eyes melted and flowed like curdled milk into a glass bulb.

I maneuvered the spout of the pooling bulb over a special earthen pot and closed the dampers on the little brazier. I went back to the well-stocked supplies and refilled my ingredient bag, knowing we would probably have need of them shortly. Then I backtracked my way quickly out of the cave, leaving the potion to brew on its own.

I found Roggi breathing but unresponsive, and the sour scent once again wrinkled my nose as small pockets of disturbed gas drifted lazily about the cave system. My stomach moaned for food and my limbs whimpered for rest as I eyed my companion's slumped form. Nevertheless, he had to be moved to fresh air and have the wound bandaged.

A sudden thought piqued my interest, and I shook out my palms and called forth the sometimes patchy and guessworkish branch of magic known as Alteration. I had never been an expert at Telekinesis, but it was worth a try. I attempted to channel lifting thoughts through my veins and into Roggi; the effort proved useless, and I wasted many a moment posed over a prone figure like a lackwit.

They don't sing about these things in the ballads, either, I reflected as I swiftly stripped Roggi of his cumbersome armor. I gripped him beneath the armpits and tugged hard, advancing his dead weight inch by slow inch. After what seemed like hours, I finally dragged him over the last ridge of stone into the smaller cave. I heaved Roggi onto a makeshift pallet atop a bench tucked into the corner.

The potion was hissing and gurgling merrily away in the pooling bulb, glugging out of the spout and into the earthen pot. I worked quickly in the cramped space, slicing a wide strip from the rapidly-disappearing tunic and wetting it down with the waterskin. Then I dipped the bandage into the small pot of thickened muck that was the consistency of grey gruel. I washed the bandage in the lumpy mixture and grimaced as the rancid scent wafted through the air.

"You know, I used to believe in the hero tales," I said out loud, more for my benefit than his. "I believed that magical healing potions were like thick golden water, or pitch black liquid full of silver healing stars." I lifted the sodden linen from the brew and flapped it out flat. "Not pig shite that smells of old eggs."

I took a seat on the floor by Roggi's bench, quickly working small holes into the ends of the bandage with the point of my dagger. The convenient pouch of leather strips I stored on my belt had remained blessedly intact, and I fed the tiny strips through the linen to keep the poultice secure.

The sewing had held nicely, and tiny tan bumps remained the only visible sign of repair. The surrounding area was what concerned us now, and I covered the offending spot with the bandage. I wound the linen slowly around Roggi's neck, frequently pausing to check the tautness. His breathing did seem easier, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath the blood-stained undertunic. But he remained lost to me, and I gently lowered his open eyelid to escape the dead, glaring blue eye while he recovered.

The twinge of guilt was met with a roaring storm of defiance, and my own body took me hostage as my blood buzzed and coursed like a downstream current. The sudden resurgence of tangible magic gave me a wild adrenaline, and I placed shaking hands on Roggi's cooling skin. The healing powers surged from my palms like hounds on the hunt, and soft light pulsed out around us, then flowed smoothly into my companion's still body. I flexed my fingers, playing with the foggy light as it poured color into Roggi's face. "This is what we sing about," I said in awe.

The rush ebbed as suddenly as it had started; head whirring, I lifted the stinking bandage and examined the damage. The sickly skin around the puncture had grown taut and strong, and the worrisome red marks wisped away to near nothing. I patted the poultice snuggly against the wound to quicken the healing, and as I pulled back, Roggi's eyes opened languidly. "Are you back, friend?" I asked lightly.

His head dropped to the side, his eyes struggling to focus on mine, and he slurred out, "Where 'm I? How'll long was I out? Oh...gods. What. Is. That. Smell."

"Medicine, but don't worry about that now. I can crush lavender for the smell..."

"Blarg!" Roggi weaved into a sitting position, ripped the poultice from his neck, and threw it onto the floor beside me. "If you want to smell like your own dead body in a pretty box of flowers then you wear it."

"It's on your own head, then," I relented, leaving the floor for the free space beside him, watching silently as he experimentally flexed his fingers and examined his bleeding knee.

"Why am I half-naked?" he rasped out.

"You're too heavy to drag in head to toe malachite. I left the armor in the tunnel outside."

"Weak elf," he scoffed, probing his throat with two fingers. He caught sight of my glare and held up both hands weakly. "A jest, Alaskaya. Merely a jest. I'd rather not be beaten by two elves in the same day." He smiled weakly, absentmindedly returning to his ministrations, fingering the tiny bumps in his skin. "Orcs are elves too. I remembered."

"Aye. Too bad you didn't remember my other advice. Casting the staff away and running may have turned out better for all involved."

"That was step two. Above all else, I supposed to aim. I did aim, that's certain. Unfortunately I was aiming at a target soaked in invisible gas. I'm not shouldering the blame for that."

"Fair enough," I allowed, standing. "At any rate, the adventure is over. The cave mouth is just east of here. We will camp here until you are stronger, then resume our trek to Riften on the morrow..."

"No!" Roggi countered, getting shakily to his feet. He gave me a very serious look. "If the way out is near, let us go. I cannot stand one more moment in this suffocating tomb beneath the earth."

"Some shelter is better than none," I protested.

"I will shelter myself in the fresh air outside. Will you have it said that the Dovahkiin refused her companion's last mortal wishes?"

"Fine, but I refuse to grant further last wishes if we swim out of here into a bears' nest. Sit and rest. I will collect your armor."

In true stubborn-Nord fashion, he refused me, and in my short absence collected our possessions and changed into a fresh undertunic. I presented him with armor, boots, and gauntlets, then busied myself extinguishing the small fire in the alchemy lab.

The journey to the submerged cave mouth was slow, with Roggi favoring his injured knee. I let him set the pace and brought up the rear, eyes and ears flickering about to make sure there were no more hidden guests. The explosion had seen to that, however, and we made our way unmolested to the churning water that poured into the pool.

"Is that...my warhammer?" Roggi asked hopefully, gripping the wooden handrail tightly as he slipped both legs into the water. Sure enough, the boxy ebony head rotated leisurely in the small waves, handle caught between two submerged rocks.

"Aye." I followed him into the waist-deep cold. "Most of our things were sent this way by the explosion. Which reminds me, leave that bedamned staff behind if you spot it."

I assisted in the search for essentials, and after several moments we had reclaimed most of Roggi's missing possessions. I turned my attention to the narrow, underwater tunnel that led to freedom.

"Perhaps I should have rethought the armor," Roggi admitted as we peered into the rushing spray. "I'm not the strongest swimmer under the best of circumstances."

"Luckily for you, I can swim well enough for the both of us," I assured him. I crouched, allowing the cool water to lick along my chin. Roggi mimicked me, wobbling on the unsteady leg.

"Hold fast to my boots when I dive," I instructed him. "Propel us forward with your strong leg, if possible." Two deep breaths later, I plunged forward under the water; Roggi's heavy fists closed around the toes of my dragonscale boots. We sliced through the darkness, helped along by the current, and even beneath the surface I could hear the stomp of armor to stone as Roggi pushed off with his good foot. Red mud thickened the water, and I swiped wildly along as my lungs burned for air...

The current widened and slowed as we slipped out of the cave into Stony Creek pond. I punched through the surface and inhaled greedily as Roggi emerged at my side. He spat out water and coughed, holding my shoulder to stay afloat. "By the gods," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I would never see such a sight again."

And a sight it was. Skyrim was dark, the trees shadowy sentries on the bank of the pond. But above, the skies were a bright and vibrant rainbow, reds, greens, blues and pinks weaved seamlessly together, sharing the space with blankets of twinkling stars. We struck out for the outline of a small wooden dock nestled against the shore. Crickets and frogs sang out to each other from the swaying grasses, and a light breeze whistled in the towering pines. Life in Skyrim was indeed savage at times; but it was beautiful at others, none moreso when one has spent hours (days?) breathing warm dirt.

My fingers finally scraped worn wood, and I pulled myself from the water with new energy. Roggi clambered up behind me, only to stagger off the opposite side into a small tethered canoe. I offered a hand, but he waved me away, grimacing. I stepped carefully into the cramped space and sat on a board at his feet.

"Are your wishes quite met?" I asked sarcastically, searching my stores in vain. Most healing potions did not affect the level of pain, and i tried to keep a few hawk feathers handy for dire situations. Alas, there were none. I paused with my hand on a small sealed pot marked with a crescent moon. I weighed it for a moment, debating...and then lay it aside as I repacked the ingredients.

"You wouldn't happen to have a shot of firewine in the magic bag, eh?" he asked faintly.

"As though you need more liquor in your veins than blood?" I shook my head and unearthed a bottle. "Regular ale will have to do."

I cobbled together a small meal of mushrooms and dried horker meat, and we both ate ravenously as the night carried on silently around us. Roggi had scarcely finished his second bottle of ale when he flopped to and fro, clutching his throat and knee in unison. The fresh air and food had done him so well that the shock had worn off...and pain had set in.

"Knock. Me. Out. Please," he asked through gritted teeth.

I palmed the small marked pot and removed the tightly-wound cloth covering. The sugary crystals shone out brightly in stark contrast to the darkness. I repositioned myself at Roggi's head, waving the moonsugar in his face. "There is another alternative. You wouldn't like it under normal circumstances...but it will take you away from the pain. The pain will be there, but you won't be." I scooped up a large clump and held out my hand.

There was nary a hesitation before Roggi snatched the moonsugar from my palm and inhaled it in a determined fury. He collapsed back against the floor of the small boat, teeth grinding.

"How long does it take to...work," the last word was a sigh of relief; his limbs loosened and fell away from the injuries, his head lolled to and fro. "I...feel...strange," he stammered, eyes struggling to focus on mine before slipping distractedly to the sky.

"Good," I reassured him, savoring my own sweet mouthful. "That means it's working." Roggi was about to embark on a mileless journey more intense than any he'd encountered previously. But he was ready, of that I was certain.

"It's over," he whispered, almost to himself, blinking slowly. "Time to sleep. The adventure is done."

"Nay, friend," I whispered back, squeezing his shoulder and gazing at the watercolor of space above us. "It's just beginning."


End file.
